To the Dark Lord
by slytherinofgallifrey
Summary: "I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more." Oneshot.


**A/N: Hello guys, this is my first [completed] fanfiction… Regulus of course. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated. (:  
**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter. These characters and everything else belong to the ever so lucky J.K. Rowling.  
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The water in the lake lapped eerily on the cave's shore. The scent of must and old air wafted towards Regulus' nostrils. A shudder went down his spine, but not because of his discomforting surroundings. Not because of the boat Kreacher was pulling into the water, beckoning for him to come in.

He, Regulus Black, was most likely going to die tonight- and nobody except his house-elf would ever know.

He took a shaky breath and clutched the fake locket as he stepped into the boat with Kreacher, careful not to disturb the water. It creaked as he sat down, rocking slightly. The boat moved silent, ghostlike, through the murky lake. A lump the size of a golf ball sat in his throat.

Regulus swallowed. He peered down into the water's murky depths and caught sight of a sinister-looking rotted hand near the surface and sunk down into the boat. Inferi. _Oh god… they _are _real, _he thought numbly. He stared into the greenish mist and made out a faint silver glow where the island was supposed to be. He hugged his knees to his chest.

Finally they reached the island in silence. Regulus' heart pounded in his chest as he got out of the boat and planted his feet onto the slippery rock, Kreacher following close behind. How small and isolated he felt… was this really worth it? Was his life worth sacrificing for the hope of bringing the Dark Lord closer to morality? Was he even ready for this?

His eyes flashed back to the boat. He could still go back. He could still save himself. But could he go back to living like he used to— a tool, just another Death Eater eager to do whatever it took to please the Dark Lord? No. He couldn't return to that life. Maybe he could get back on the boat and live as a fugitive in some secluded place; a coward, yes, but still alive and not a Death Eater.

Voldemort would find him; he had his ways. His betrayal would not go unpunished. Regulus would certainly die at the hands, or more likely, on the orders, of the Dark Lord.

It was now or never. If he ran away, fate would catch him and he would die for nothing. If he followed through with this his death would not have been in vain. He would help in bringing Voldemort down. It had to be done.

Regulus drew the false locket and his wand from his robes and stared blankly at them. Robotically he conjured a cup with his wand, moving towards the silvery basin in one fluid motion. He looked down at Kreacher, who was waiting at his side.

"Does Kreacher have to drink the potion again?" asked the house-elf, trying to suppress a shudder. Regulus' features softened slightly and he got down on one knee to Kreacher's level. "No…" he said gently, "Not again. Never again," he added. "I have an important job for you, Kreacher. It is most crucial that you finish it,"

Kreacher nodded expectantly. "A-Anything for Master Regulus, sir," he rasped.

"The potion- the one the Dark Lord made you drink- it… I have to drink it in order to get the locket. Force me to drink it if you have to. D-Don't listen to anything I say when I'm under its effects."

"Master Reg-"

"Kreacher, it's vital. Switch the locket with this one," (Regulus gave Kreacher the locket with quivering hands) "And go back home. Don't tell anyone in the fam…family, the other Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord himself. This is the most important part- _Destroy the locket_. Do everything in your power to completely extinguish its contents. Got it?"

Kreacher nodded, a slightly revolted expression on his face. "Yes Master, anything, sir,"

Regulus filled the cup to the brim with silvery fluid, his hands trembling- his whole body quivering. This was it. As soon as the potion touched his lips, it was over. There was no going back.

He would never see his family again. He was going to die, and it was completely in his power to stop it. The lump in his throat swelled. He drew a shaky breath and held the cup over his mouth. _To the Dark Lord, _he thought, and a tiny smirk crossed his face.

Regulus shut his eyes and poured the potion down his throat.

He immediately dropped to his knees, his insides writhing in sheer agony- he was on fire- no, he was being tortured by Cruciatas—

"_WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, SIRIUS? ASSCOSIATING WITH MUDBLOODS AND SCUM LIKE THIS? DAMNIT, BOY, I THOUGHT YOU RESPECTED YOUR PARENTS, ! I THOUGHT YOU CARED ABOUT THE HOUSE OF BLACK! EXPLAIN THIS!" _

_ A thirteen-year old Regulus Black, hidden behind the staircase, listened to his mother's angry shouts at his brother. He could hear Sirius arguing back, his voice nearly as furious. They quarreled loudly for what seemed like hours, then finally, the door slammed and all was silent. _

_ Regulus tried to suppress a whimper as she stormed up the stairs, her face livid. She caught sight of him. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be asleep, go to your room!"_

"_Mum, where's Sirius? Where's my brother?" _

"_Brother? You never HAD a brother!"_

"Master Regulus, please, you need to drinks this… you said…"

He lifted a trembling hand to find himself back on the island, his body still aching. Kreacher tipped the cup down his throat and a new wave of anguish consumed him; it was the Cruciatas once more—

_"Crucio!" He shouted, pointing his wand at the old Muggle man. The man howled in agony, his eyes rolling up into their sockets. _

"_Come on Reggie, you can do better than that!" Bella said, her face alight with glee. "Watch how I do it!" Bellatrix shoved Regulus out of the way and pointed her wand directly at the old man's forehead. Her face screwed up in concentration. _

_Instantly the man's eyes widened. He froze completely, the only thing moving was his right hand twitching violently. His eyes were filled with nothing but distress and agony… _

Regulus was sprawled on the rocky island floor, and he was vaguely aware of Kreacher helping him up. His throat was burning… "_Water… Please… I need…water…" _He moaned, stretching his hand towards the tempting lake water. Kreacher pushed a cup towards his lips. "Master Regulus, drink this, this is the last one… please,"

Regulus tried to protest but the house-elf's grip was too strong; Kreacher forced the liquid down his throat and he was immediately engulfed in pain once more. His throat wasn't burning—his entire body, mind, and soul was. He thrashed on the rock, opening gashes all along his skin. He was being stabbed, skinned alive, salt was being poured into empty wounds…

The thrashing stopped. The pain stopped and he was left with a burning desire and thirst for water. His insides were drying up; he had to find that life-giving liquid. Water… where was it? He crawled towards the edge of the island and plunged his face into the lake water, gulping it down in huge mouthfuls.

Regulus drew his head out of the water, and glimpsed the surface of it. His eyes widened in horror. The surface of the lake was no longer smooth; white, decaying bodies were emerging from it; barely recognizable humans with sunken, sightless eyes were moving towards the rock.

Instinctively he scrambled back, casting a glance at Kreacher, who was standing frozen in the center of the island.

"KREACHER! Take the locket and go! They'll get you too if you try to help me!"

The house-elf snapped alert and jumped towards the basin—Regulus drew his wand while Kreacher switched the two lockets.

"_Stupe-" _a rotting hand had gotten hold of his foot, pulling him towards the water—he tried to yank it away, but its grip was too strong—he pulled away, leaving his shoe in the living corpse's grip. Three more hands grabbed him around his ankles, forcing him closer to the water. He slipped on the slick rock, but he caught himself before he face planted—Regulus' wand dropped from his grasp and fell dangerously close to the water's edge. He reached for it just as more decomposing hands wrapped around his legs, pulling him closer and closer. Kreacher was poised to jump to help him.

"No, Kreacher! Go! Get the locket! Leave! "

Kreacher's eyes widened in horror, but he stumbled to the basin and switched the horcrux for the fake locket. Regulus dug his nails into a crevice in the island's solid surface, scrambling to stay on.

"Destroy it, Kreacher!" he commanded, his voice hysterical. "Please!"

The house-elf let out a whine of distress and disapparated with a crack.

Regulus was slipping farther and farther into the icy water, Inferi surrounding him. He was fighting a losing battle. He reached out with sliced and bleeding hands to get a grip on a rock, but it broke off and splashed into the lake.

His last hope: a tiny outcropping in the island, big enough for a finger or too, slid from his grasp as if part of the water itself. Regulus pushed himself up and got a lungful of air before being pulled under completely.

His eyes bulged as he swam with all his might, fighting to stay near the surface. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he broke free from the grasp of the undead; momentary hope. He swam to the top of the water—his fingertips broke the water and felt warm air, but another slimy hand, and another, pulled him down before he could reach it.

Regulus kicked his legs furiously, hoping against hope that they would release him. Of course they didn't— he was drastically outnumbered, he was going nowhere. He stared upwards, the cave's dim light fading slowly, the pressure in his ears building steadily.

This was it. He was going to die here alone.

He let his body go limp; what was the point? He didn't have the slimmest chance. Still, he held on instinctively to the air in his cheeks and lungs. The need for air was starting up. Regulus bit his lip; it was going to be much worse.

The pressure in his ears was excruciating now, but he couldn't do anything about it. He wouldn't survive this, it was impossible. He hoped death would come fast.

What would his parents think? If they knew about his betrayal he would surely be burned off the family tree like his big brother and cousin.

Would Sirius ever know? Would his brother ever find out he died? Would he ever know that Regulus had died trying to bring Voldemort down?

Did it matter?

The water was frigid, but it was nothing compared to the burning in his lungs. Regulus' chest felt crushed— air. Air, he needed air. He tried desperately to escape the grip of the Inferi, struggling— He panicked and the little air he was holding onto escaped out his nostrils; his lungs felt even smaller. He watched helplessly as the last bubbles floated out of sight.

Air— Oxygen, it was critical— he _had _to get air—

Involuntarily he sucked in, but no air came. Instead, water rushed into his lungs and with it, more fire. He choked violently and weakly clasped his hand over his mouth when it stung his whole chest.

Regulus' face screwed up in pain as tiny white dots exploded in his vision. His lungs were collapsing, he needed the oxygen that was just so impossible to get. He flailed his free arm feebly, trying and failing to break free once more. He was so weak… he relaxed both his hands and let them float above his head… the pain was so great— he wanted this to all be over…

Over. It hit him. He thought he was prepared for this, but his stomach churned at the thought. He was dying; drowning at the hands of the undead. His body would be just another Inferi, and nobody would ever notice. Those sightless eyes and rotting hands would soon belong to him. Why did he have to die like this when he lived in a world where a flash of green light could end your life? The killing curse felt like bliss right now.

His entire body ached for air but he was too weak to get it. How long would it take? How long would he be conscious? Why couldn't he die quickly like the muggles he had murdered on Death Eater rampages?

No, he deserved this. He deserved this—look at the suffering he had caused countless human beings to go through. He had served Voldemort, but now he would die bringing him closer to morality.

Regulus exhaled, his lungs stinging, and a single bubble floated out of sight. The last of the air. No more hope.

_Best to speed up the process, _he thought gravely.

So against all instincts and reflexes, he breathed in. The cold water rushed into his lungs a second time. He contracted in pain and breathed out.

His mind was ready for this now, but his body disagreed. Of course his heart wanted to keep pumping… his lungs wanted to breathe actual air.

He inhaled again. This time nearly everything went numb. All he felt around him was a cold numbness smothering his body… _We're almost there, _he thought, a chill running down his spine. This was it, he was going to die… these were his last few minutes on earth…

He would never see Sirius or Kreacher again, his friends, his parents… he would die here, just another guardian of the lake…

Regulus was completely helpless… he was sinking but he couldn't feel it… he couldn't even move a finger… this was the end… the air was gone.

He was dying… he didn't want…want to die… would mum, dad…Sirius…? Voldemort, did he… was it worth it…? Where… was he… he didn't… didn't want to…die…

Everything felt like it was drifting away… then the cold, black water faded completely.

Regulus Black went finally limp as the Inferi reached the bottom of the lake.


End file.
